


The Beginning in the End

by Potato_Huntress



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood, Blow Jobs, Children, Death, F/M, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Romance, Sex, Tragedy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29593881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potato_Huntress/pseuds/Potato_Huntress
Summary: Sylvain and Ingrid were finally married after the war. His incessant asking for her hand finally paid off, and the two were happy. Until one morning came that changed their lives forever. Being faced with the decision of his wife or his offspring, Sylvain experiences true sorrow, but can he see the light at the end of the tunnel?
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a Valentine's Day fiction, but it took a little longer than expected to write! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> \- Potato

The dawn broke over the horizon ushering in yet another new day across the newly freed Fódlan, soft rays of sunlight poured in through the slight part in the heavy curtains of Ingrid and Sylvain’s bedchambers. 

Cold mornings in Gautier territory weren’t unusual, and while it normally would cause her to retreat further under the covers and into her husband’s embrace, instead she found herself pressing a hand to her forehead. Keeping the thick sheets against her bare skin, she attempted to sit up, only to feel as though weights were tied to her shoulders, pulling her back down. It couldn’t possibly be that she was contracting illness. Not now. She was fine when she went to sleep.

With a heavy breath, she decided to toss off the covers, and stubbornly sit up, ignoring the heaviness she felt about her shoulders.

When Ingrid moved to stand, she found herself stuck once again. Not by the fatigue, rather two strong arms gripping at her waist to hold her back.

“Good morning to you. Where do you think you’re going without a morning kiss? Hm?” Sylvain’s groggy voice came across muffled. “Come back, it’s too cold to get up now. At least...let me warm you up a bit.” 

Nearly every word that he uttered was punctuated with gentle kisses up the small of her back to the centre, eliciting a soft groan from her as he did so.

“Sylv...I need to…I don’t have time to...ah…” she grinned lightly as her back arched from his lips against her skin.

“C’mon, Ing, give in for once,” he chuckled softly, tightening his grip and pulling her back gently.

“I’ve given in the past three nights and two mornings before that,” She chuckled lightly.

“Ah, but you have yet to give in today.~”

“Your offer is tempting, Margrave,” Turning her head slightly, she caught his dazzling eye gazing up at her, his lips still running across her battleworn flesh.

Each scar his mouth brushed against sent a small shiver down her spine, eliciting soft moans and light feathery breaths.

He managed to pull her back in onto her back with the covers over their bodies, hiding the sinful actions he was committing to produce such sounds. His hands moved gently as they caressed her inner thighs, his soft, humming lips lingering against her abdomen, threatening to move lower with every second he was in charge.

The breaths she managed to take in were sharp and followed by minimal movement on her part, which seemed to make him laugh gently as he closed in on her well-prepared nethers.

“Now, what was it that was so important that you needed to leave so quickly?” He teased. “Because it seems to me, you had time for this after all.~”

“Tch, quiet!” Ingrid responded shortly. In truth, she had forgotten why she needed to get up so quickly herself. “Just...ah…” her words melted into the empty air as Sylvain parted her legs further apart.

As the warmth of his breath brushed against her swollen pearl, she shuddered with anticipation. The urge to lock his face between her legs was becoming overwhelming. His strong, calloused hands gripped her hips firmly as he pressed his skilled tongue against her sensitive, waiting flesh.

Releasing a slow, steady stream of air through pursed lips, Ingrid sent her hands beneath the blankets, clenching and releasing his locks in tandem with the movements of his tongue.

As he continued, she found herself attempting to prop herself up onto her elbows, only to be reminded of the weight she felt earlier. The weight dragged her upper body back down onto the mattress, only this time, an overwhelming sense of nausea hitting her hard.

Releasing his hair almost immediately, she tossed back the covers and used her hand to carefully push his busy mouth back before she kicked him in the teeth by mistake. In her haste to get out of bed, Ingrid neglected to grab her robe, leaving her cold and stark, retching over the wash basin.

“Ingrid?” Sylvain’s confused, worried tone could be heard over her being sick, followed by heavy footsteps. He had grabbed her robe, and draped it over her shoulders as she finished. “Are you alright?”

“B-Better now.” She mumbled as she lifted the pitcher of water and cleaned the basin, then rinsed her mouth.

“It wasn’t something you ate, was it? I knew that fish smelled off.” He pressed his hand to her forehead and helped her slip her arms through the sleeves of the robe. “But I’m not sick, huh. Maybe I have a stronger stomach than you after all!”

Teasing at a time like this? With an exasperated sigh, she moved his hand from her forehead and tied the cloth belt at her waist.

“No, no. It wasn’t the fish. It has to be something else.” She rested a hand against his cheek, supplying a short kiss to his lips. “I will go and find a healer. I’ll let you know what happens afterward, alright?”

“Oh, no way, Ing. I’ll come with you. You’re looking sorta pale, and I don’t want you to pass out in the hall or something.”

Resting his hand at the small of her back, he gently led her back out of the washroom and sat her on the bed, disappearing into the closet to find clothes for both of them for the day.

-

“Yes, everything is fine,” Ingrid spoke lightly, only to have Sylvain cut in, his overprotective nature surfacing.

“No, she’s not feeling well. Will you check her, please?” He clutched her hand and helped her to sit on the bed again after she so stubbornly stood to meet the bishop.

“Oh? Certainly, it’s rare indeed that the margravine is sick. One moment.” The young bishop smiled lightly, conjuring a soft orange glow at her fingertips, she took a few steps toward Ingrid.

The moment the warm magic seeped into her skin, she felt ill again. Her head began to pound horribly, coupled with the room beginning to spin, urging her to hold Sylvain’s hand tighter.

“Stop, please? Stop.” Ingrid groaned, raising her hand to grip the woman’s wrist, shoving it away from her forehead.

The second she did, she pressed her head into his chest, taking in several deep breaths in an attempt to stop the pounding and room spinning.

“Well? What is it? Ingrid, if it’s food poisoning, you owe me.” Sylvain said with a hand on the back of her head.

“It’s definitely not food poisoning, Margrave,” the bishop tittered lightly. “It’s nothing that nine months won’t fix.”

“Pardon?” Perhaps it was the pounding headache that still plagued her, or her other ear being muffled against Sylvain’s chest and heartbeat, but she could have sworn…

“I’m sorry...is this a joke?” He tightened his grip around her with audible change in his tone. “Because it sounds like you just said,”

“I’m pregnant. No, we’re pregnant.” Ingrid managed in a softer voice, moving to sit up straight. “Thank you for coming.” She smiled weakly in the bishop’s direction and waited for her to leave before saying anything to Sylvain.

Once the bishop left and the door was closed, Ingrid slowly stood from the bed, and leaned against the bedpost, chewing at her lower lip. Glancing between him and her midsection, she reached a hand out to tussle his hair.

“I haven’t seen you this quiet since our wedding night, Sylvain. Aren’t you going to say something?” She asked.

“Ing, you know how dangerous this could be,” he replied, reaching up to hold her hand, he took it and pulled her down onto his lap.

“There are risks with everything, and it doesn’t matter what your father’s ideals are. Whether the baby has a Crest or not, it won’t make a difference in how much we love it.” Ingrid sighed softly, hoping that’s what he was worried about.

“No, you know what I’m talking about. What my father thinks hasn’t concerned me since I inherited the territory.” He muttered, gazing up into her jade eyes as their fingers weaved together. “You don’t remember what Mercedes told you? Goddess, Ingrid. I know you’re stubborn, but this is a new level.”

“I haven’t forgotten, Sylv.” She frowned.

She didn’t forget. How could she forget? It happened to her specifically. It was such a dark day when it occurred. How did what was supposed to be a simple stop to an outer village raid turn into her getting hurt severely? She lived through five years of terror, and a simple mission is what damaged her.

“Mercedes said it was merely a possibility. It wasn’t certain,” her brows shifted to one of concern for him rather than herself. “What did you think would happen? With how often we’re active, I’m shocked it didn’t happen sooner.”

“She said it was a very slim chance that you would be able to conceive,” he began, resting his thumb against her chin. “And if you did, it could be fatal.”

“A slim chance doesn’t mean zero, obviously,” her tone was becoming a bit more biting the more they discussed this. It was supposed to be something that couples rejoice over, not argue. “If it will make you feel better, I can send for Mercedes to come and stay. But Sylvain, I’m not worried. I know that you are, but please, trust that when I say I’m not concerned, I am truly not.”

“You’ve always been so stubborn.” He grunted lightly. “But if you insist, then I suppose I should admit that I am just as happy in this moment than I was when you finally agreed to marry me.” He grinned lovingly, kissing her lips.

Ingrid knew that he was agreeing with her for the sake of avoiding an argument. But she would discuss this with Mercedes when she arrived.


	2. Unravel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussing her condition with Mercedes brings light to the intense fear Sylvain feels.

-

Shortly after their discussion, Ingrid wasted no time in sending for Mercedes. While she couldn’t wait to see her friend, she was afraid of what she would say regarding the pregnancy. Was Sylvain right? Perhaps she was remembering wrong. She did have a concussion at the time as well as her other injuries. And there always was the possibility she could have misinterpreted what was said.

Ingrid paced her room after being left alone with her thoughts— which was a poor choice really. She began to question everything from after that fight regarding her injuries. Everything from how it occurred to how she healed after. As she released a heavy breath, she decided to leave their room to find someplace else to think. The only other place that came to mind was the stables.  
-

As she made her way out to the stables, Ingrid hardly had time to pick up a curry brush before she felt a tap on her shoulder. Flinching at the sudden touch, she spun around on her heel, ready to defend herself should she need to. Even after war, it seemed some instincts remained.

When she finally managed to focus on who it was, she breathed a sigh of relief. Mercedes.

“Mercedes! I wasn’t expecting you for a little while longer!” She threw her arms around her in a tight embrace, receiving an equally warm hug in return.

“Oh, I couldn’t stay away when I heard the news!” She smiled softly. “But, there are a few things we need to discuss.” She pulled back gently, brushing her fingers through the loose strands of Ingrid’s hair.

“Yes, I thought as much.” Her smile fell a bit as she took her friend’s hand. “Let’s sit in the garden. I can have tea brought for us.”

“Tea sounds lovely.”  
-

“Ingrid, will you tell me what you remember exactly from the day of the incident?” Mercedes asked lightly as the tea arrived.

The two had a good moment to catch up briefly as they waited for their drink and scones, and when the topic changed from what Mercedes had been doing as of late to what Ingrid remembered about such a grim moment in her life, the overall mood changed.

“Unfortunately, I don’t remember much I’m afraid.” She responded as she poured the tea for them. “Sylvain doesn’t talk about it— in fact he refuses to.”

“I cannot say that I blame him for trying to distance himself from that day. Of course, I was there, but will you humour me and tell me anyway?” She replied coolly before taking a sip from her cup.

“If you insist,” she took in a deep breath and stirred a sugar cube into her cup. “I was walking toward the leader of the band. At the time, it sounded as though he was babbling on about something useless, until he said some sort of key word or phrase. The next thing I knew, I felt an intense, searing pain in my lower back, then everything felt cold.” She explained softly, instinctively pressing a hand against the small of her back where she was shot.

“Then, I woke up in mine and Sylvain’s bed. My head hurt, and the room was dark. I’m afraid I don’t remember much after that. My solid memory began again about a week after.” 

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Mercedes sighed. “Ingrid, what I explained to both you and Sylvain when you woke up was not pleasant.” Her voice fell with her gaze down to her tea. “I told Sylvain that it would be unlikely for you to have children, and if you did somehow manage to conceive, it could be dangerous.”

“Mercedes, where did the arrows land?” Ingrid’s jaw was dropped slightly. Clutching her teacup close, she waited.

“Your lower back. They barely missed your spine, but there was internal bleeding. I managed to stop it, but...the tearing was so significant…”

“I see. But you did say it could be fatal, not would be. One of those is a definite. Mercedes, you of all people should understand how stubborn I can be.”

“Of course, but Ingrid, it could be very dangerous! Would you truly put Sylvain through the possibility of losing a child? Losing you?”

“No. And that’s why I want you to stay and help. I have enough faith that everything will be fine. I need your support as well as Sylvain’s right now. I understand the risks. But I’m willing to take them if it means he and I will have a child.” She responded firmly. “Do you know how painful it is to see Annette and Felix with their two children? You and Dedue with yours?”

Ingrid’s grip on her cup loosened as she dropped both hands into her lap. “Sylvain used to say he didn’t care about having children...but it’s obvious how badly he wants them. The way his eyes light up when he plays with Annie and Felix’s kids. I know he’s afraid, and I am as well, but this is something worth going through if it means we can have a child of our own. I can’t deprive him of that…”

The look that plagued Mercedes’s face was one of understanding, but held shadows of pain.

“Ingrid, I understand. As your friend, I will be here to support you in whatever you decide, but as your midwife, I’m going to be very strict.” She replied. “If I advise you not to do something, I want you to listen, is that clear?” Mercedes was stern, a rare site for such an easy going woman.

“You will stay, then?” Curving her frown into a halfhearted smile. “Of course. I will do everything as you say. Thank you, you’ve no idea how much this means to me — to us.” She rested a hand against her still-muscular abdomen.

Releasing a weighted sigh of relief, Mercedes forced a soft smile as she sipped the rest of her tea. While Ingrid knew that she was happy to help, the obvious worry in her eyes was enough to sink her heart. She needed to remain positive though. For Sylvain’s sake, and for their unborn child’s.


	3. Playing it Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Explicit Chapter**  
> Sylvain fusses over Ingrid, and things become a little heated.

-

“Ingrid, let me help you with that! Mercedes said,”

Sylvain began his speech accompanied by two arms taking the bedding from her hands and placing them down on the bed himself.

“No items over twenty-five pounds, I know. I hardly think a comforter and bed sheets weigh more than twenty.” Ingrid rolled her eyes in frustration.

At first his wanting to help with everything was endearing, but now it was more annoying than anything.

“Exactly. But even then, I don’t want you to put any strain on your back. We still have four months to think about.” He responded gently while weaving an arm around her waist, his hand resting on the now visible bump protruding in her middle.

“I understand...but at least let me help make the bed?” She responded weakly with a genuine smile. “I don’t like feeling helpless, you know that.”

“You’re right, babe. I’m sorry. Yeah, let’s make the bed. I’ll never understand why you enjoy making it yourself, though. We have help for a reason.” He muttered softly, handing her the fitted sheet to take her side of the bed.

“I enjoy doing it because it’s cathartic. It calms my mind, anyway.” She responded with a kind grin, a small chuckle escaping as she watched him struggle with his end of the sheet. “Here, let me help.”

Tucking in her side, she made her way around their bed, and took the sheet out of his hand, and showed him the correct way to place it.

“There, not so bad, right?” She sighed softly while pressing a hand to her back.

When he didn’t respond with one of his usual automatic responses, she shifted her gaze up to meet his eyes, and found him staring at her with a look she knew all too well.

“Sylvain?”

“You know, it would be a shame if we didn’t test your sheeting skills, Ing,” he responded coyly, sitting down on the bed. “Let’s put it to the test.” He winked slowly, taking her hand in his.

With a fierce blush taking over her cheeks, she moved to sit on his lap.

“I suppose it would be terrible if we didn’t. After all, we should always check the integrity of our work.” She replied gently.

With a low, throaty chuckle, Sylvain pressed his lips against hers, his hand massaging her lower back as it became more intense. As Ingrid sat on his lap, it was soon difficult to hide the growing bulge in his trousers as it pressed beneath her thigh, giving her the signal to move on.

Running a hand down his chest, she unbuttoned his shirt, and adjusted herself carefully so as to have access to the clasp of his trousers.

“Ingrid, you don’t have to,” he moaned between kisses, moving his lips to her neck and beginning to suck gently.

“Ah, but I want to. Don’t think you can convince me that you don’t want it; your nose is growing, Pinocchio.” She chuckled softly at her joke as her fingers managed to unbutton his trousers.

“Hah...good one. I told you that you can be fun when you want to be.” He ceased his kisses just long enough to give her a slow, cocky wink, then returned to her neck.

As his lips busied themselves as well as one of his hands on her lower back, he sent the other upward to her breasts, passing them over for a moment as his fingers nimbly unbuttoned her blouse. With her shirt open, he slipped his hand inside the restricting cloth of her bra, beginning to gently knead at the soft mound in his grasp.

The second he slipped his hand inside, several soft moans escaped from her, filling the air with the simple sounds of his lips connecting and disconnecting, and her groans of pleasure.

“Ah, Sylv,” She groaned lustily, her hand moving behind his head to hold it in place at her neck. “I adore you.” Muttering lovingly, she rested the other hand against his chest.

Ingrid knew he enjoyed taking his time, whether it was because he enjoyed the sounds he could draw out of her or the thrill of teasing her, she wouldn’t have it this time. He always treated her, it was only fair for her to treat him.

Gently tugging at the bottom locks of his hair, she pulled away from his lips and stood slowly, taking a few steps away, and with a playful grin, she pressed a hand against his chest, forcing him down onto his back.

“Let me take care of you for once, then you can do as you will with me.” Her tone was low and silken, laced with a hint of mischief.

“Margravine Gautier, have mercy.” He chuckled ardently as he flexed his trapped, growing passion through the remaining garments.

With her blouse already unbuttoned, she removed the pale blue garment, dropping it to the floor, allowing her cradled breasts to rest above the bump in her middle.

Without further hesitation, Ingrid sauntered forward, running a hand upward from his knee to his thigh, stopping short of the swollen rock in the centre.

Feeling his shudder at her touch brought a sweet grin to her lips. It wasn’t often she had this opportunity, and she didn’t intend to waste it.

Moving both hands up to grip his belt loops, she gently tugged at his trousers, pulling them off slowly and leaving them on the floor. With his pants removed, all that remained was his unbuttoned shirt and his tight undergarment.

“Goddess, Ing, could you possibly move any slower?” He teased with a grin, propping himself up onto his elbows to get a better view of his wife.

“I can, but I doubt you would be able to handle it.” She winked softly, her hand slipping its way up through the left leg of his shorts, massaging his inner thigh, avoiding his eagerly waiting partner.

Falling off of his elbows onto his back again, Sylvain drew in several shuddering breaths, his hands running through his hair and wiping his face to rid it of the sweat from the pure anticipation.

Deciding he had waited long enough, her fingers moved to his waist band, tugging at it gently, causing him to raise his hips off of the bed to help her remove them. With a devious grin, she first lightly pressed her lips against his covered bulge, then removed the garment, abandoning it on the ground as well.

Once freed, he stood at full mast, throbbing and twitching in excitement. Moving her hand against its base, Ingrid stifled a soft laugh at how quickly her husband’s body stiffened at such a simple touch.

Being urged on by his initial reaction, she crawled onto the bed beside him, assisting him in positioning himself in the centre at the head of the bed. Leaning in between his legs, her hands skillfully began massaging his tensed thighs as her lips lightly kissed their way up his shaft to the tip.

As her lips took in the head, his strong, calloused hands gently moved against her head, his fingers running through her hair and removing the ribbons on the left and right, releasing her longer strands of hair to frame her face as she worked.

Taking more of his thick cock into her mouth, his groans of pleasure became more guttural the more she took. His fingers gently brushed her loose locks behind her ears, a soft groan escaping him as she began a slow rhythm, her tongue dancing about his flesh as she did so.

“Oh, Goddess, take me now.” He moaned with a satisfied grin. “Hah. You’re an angel, love.” Muttering happily, he gently pressed the back of her head, helping her increase the speed of the sucking.

Shifting her left hand from his thigh to his balls, she took them in her palm, beginning to knead them keenly.

The longer she focused on him, the more tense he was becoming, telling Ingrid it was time to stop and move on to the next portion.

Removing her mouth from his cock, his hands released her head down to her back, rubbing small circles between her shoulder blades.

“Come here, love. It’s your turn.” He cooed gently, assisting her to the head of the bed where he was laying, switching her places. “Now, let’s remove that pesky skirt of yours.” With his throbbing rod rubbing against her leg as he pulled down on her skirt, his lips pressed against the bump as his skilled fingers removed the article.

Having his gentle mouth against her protruding abdomen sent a small wave of heat down her spine, kindling the heat between her legs to burn even hotter.

“It’s difficult to believe that in four months, we’ll have a son,”

“Or daughter. What makes you so certain it’s a boy, hm?” She murmured lightly with a smile as his lips kissed downward from her middle to the crest of her covered sex.

As her husband pressed his mouth against her covered sex, he drew out several soft, shuddering breaths from her, bringing her hands to lower into his red locks, attempting to push him in further even though there was nothing to push him into yet.

At her pushing, he released a soft chuckle.

“Darling, let me take off your panties first! Stubborn.” He muttered lovingly. “So impatient.”

And impatient she was. As soon as his fingers manipulated their way around her final piece of clothing, he took his time removing them, making Ingrid squirm.

“Goddess above, Sylvain! If you go any slower I’ll—“ 

“You’ll what, dear?”

The teasing tone in his voice sent shivers down her spine, drawing out a soft groan of wanton frustration.

“Agh! Just take them off and have your way with me!” Ingrid demanded through clenched teeth. She hated that he was able to flip the situation so easily, and she fell for it each time.

“Well, when you put it that way… No.” he barked a short laugh, removing his fingers from the cloth and moving his hands to grip her wrists. “I think I might just do this first.” He murmured into her ear with a soft lick to her lobe.

As his tongue left her ear, she felt him press his thick, throbbing lance against her covered folds, soliciting a high pitched tone of yearning from her.

“Sylvain!” She shouted his name, trying to sound commanding, only to have it come out less dominant and more soft and submissive than anything.

With her wrists forced down the way they were in his grasp, she resorted to raising herself up to plant kisses on any portion of his muscular, scarred flesh that she could reach, hoping he would allow her sweet release soon.

When her lips connected with his bare skin, he groaned deeply, telling her that her plan might just work— and might just save another pair of panties in the process.

Releasing her wrists, he made quick work of removing her underwear, exposing her heated folds to the cold air. With several shuddering gasps, Ingrid closed her eyes as she felt his engorged tip press against her entrance. Relaxing herself as he slipped his way inside, she shook with desire. The way he filled her was perfect, and the relief that was granted from just a simple action such as that was mind numbingly wonderful.

Within the first few minutes of his throbbing blade sheathing itself, he developed a rhythm that lasted longer than she expected. But with each scooping motion he made, it rubbed against her swollen clit, bringing her just the tiniest bit closer to her end with each brush.

She was enjoying every second of it when he reached a hand upward and began to grope her right, swollen breast. His fingers teasing at the erect peak. He knew how to treat her, and she adored him for it.

“Gah! Sylv, I...I’m close.” She muttered softly, raising a hand to his cheek, the other reaching downward at his cock, only to have his hand swat hers away.

“I can tell. You’re beyond tight, Ing.” He grinned through labored breathing. “I am too, b-but let’s adjust something…”

When he said that, she knew he meant to change positions, and before she could stop him from doing anything foolish to deprive her from being so close, she found herself straddled over him. She sat with him filling her still, and the absolute freedom to move as fast as she wanted.

“Smart.” She replied sensually, leaning forward to kiss his exposed chest before finding a rhythm of her own that drove the both of them to a full release.


	4. The Right Time and Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ingrid goes into labor while with Sylvain. Sylvain is escorted out of the room by Mercedes and is left in the dark.

-

“Ingrid! Is it time? I can have Mercedes here in just a moment, she’s just down the hall!” Sylvain shot up straight as a board beside her in bed when she merely shifted her position in his grasp.

It had been like this since she entered into the eighth moon of pregnancy, and she was becoming exhausted reassuring him that she wasn’t in labour every time she so much as sneezed or moved.

“For the last time, I promise you will know when it is.” She mumbled in her sleep, pulling her pillow up and over her head to block out his frantic state.

“You keep saying that, but I have a feeling,”

“Is the feeling that your pregnant wife is going to kick your arse if you don’t let her have one decent night's sleep?” She tossed over her shoulder, feeling the baby kick a few times. Great. Now the baby was awake.

“No, I think something is going to happen, and we won’t see it coming.” He rested a hand on her shoulder, trying to pull her in closer as he relaxed back down under the covers. “C’mon, babe, talk to me. You’ve gotta be nervous, too. It can’t just be me.”

As he spoke, she removed the pillow from over her head and slowly turned over to face him. Of course she was nervous. There wasn’t a single visit with Mercedes that the possibility of death wasn’t mentioned once or twice, and that was anxiety inducing. But she never admitted that to him. In her mind, she needed to remain strong for him because this was something she seemed to want more than him. At least, that’s what it felt like.

With her overly large middle pressing against his toned body, she gently pressed a hand to his chest, her tired, green eyes focusing on his honeyed ones in the dark.

“Sylv, of course I am. But you seem to be worried enough for the both of us.” She smiled lovingly as the child moved and punched at its father. “But if you feel the need to know, I’ll be honest with you.”

“Ing, that’s all I ever want. You being honest with me is everything, especially about this. You mean so much to me. And so do you.” He added in a slightly sweeter voice as he rested a hand on her stomach. “I just want everything to go smoothly.”

“I understand.” Ingrid replied lightly, running a hand through his mussed hair. “But please, remember that I’m not in control of when the baby comes, alright? It is.” Grinning warmly, she pressed her lips to his, jumping softly as the child violently pushed a limb out.

“If he thinks he’s coming out that way, he is gravely mistaken.” Sylvain barked a soft laugh at his joke, pressing down against the baby’s limb that was poking out.

“Hah, you’re so certain it’s a boy, I’m afraid of what you might do if It is a girl.”

“Oh, I’ll love her the same, don’t you worry. There’s just something about having a son…”

With a soft yawn, Ingrid laid her head back down on her pillow listening to him prattle on about the baby. It was sweet to see the once proud skirt chaser begin settling into a more serious role, and it looked good on him. He would be an excellent father, she knew it. And if he wasn’t, there were several people who would knock quite a bit of sense into him.  
-

“I know you’re a tad bit uncomfortable, but it’s normal, it happens when you’re nine moons in, Ingrid.” Mercedes smiled with a light chuckle at her friend’s frustration.

“Uncomfortable? Mercedes, uncomfortable is having a pebble in your boot. This is far beyond uncomfortable!” She moved to cross her arms as she used to, only to have her belly get in the way. “Gah! I can’t even cross my arms!”

The severe discomfort only got worse with every day that passed that the baby wasn’t delivered, and at this point, she was willing to do anything to evict the child from her body.

“There is an herbal tea I can brew for you that has the potential to stimulate labour, but I don’t want to use it with you being at risk.” She frowned softly.

Ingrid could see that Mercedes’s hands were tied in this, but there had to be another way to get the process started.

“Would walking or riding a horse help?” She asked lightly, thinking that perhaps a very bumpy ride would jostle her enough into labour.

“A horseback ride might work.” Mercedes chuckled with a soft shake to her head. “Just be sure not to go too far, and take Sylvain with you. I would hate to have something happen and you be alone.”

“I’m fairly certain I know how to care for myself. We’ve been through the breathing exercises multiple times, and,” 

“No, there is no going around it. Remember our agreement? You listen to me when I advise you, that was the deal.” She furrowed her brow, taking her wrist firmly.

“Alright, alright. I won’t leave without Sylvain.” She huffed as she moved to stand. The huff wasn’t about needing to take her husband with her, rather the effort she exerted to stand. “Goddess, that is getting difficult.”

“Not much longer, it will be okay. Be safe on your ride, Ingrid. Remember, don’t go too far.”  
-

“Let me get your saddle for you.”

Sylvain smiled warmly as they entered the stables to saddle up their mounts.

“Thank you, my love.” She replied kindly, resting against a bale of hay. “You know what, maybe we shouldn’t go, I’m feeling exhausted all of a sudden.” She said softly, pressing a hand to her cheek while the other rested on her middle.

“Nonsense. We should go and get some fresh air. Maybe ride to the meadows. Once we get there, you’ll be glad we did.” He replied confidently until he looked up and over at her. “Maybe we should get you to bed, you don’t look very good.”

“Thank you, that’s exactly what every woman wants to hear.” She teased softly, but even her teasing was weak. “Help me to bed, please. I don’t know if I can make it on my own.”

Admitting something like that didn’t come easily to her, but as soon as she said the words, he was scooping her up into his arms and carrying her out of the stables and back to the main house.

As they walked, she began to contract, the strong pains in her abdomen eliciting a few soft groans of discomfort.

“Ingrid? What is it? It’s time, isn’t it? Goddess, hold on, we’ll be there soon!” He spoke calmly, kissing her forehead. “If you need to, squeeze my arm as tight as you can, I can take it.”

“Agh! Just get me to our quarters! Hurry!” The agony in her tone rose to levels she didn’t know existed.  
-

The pain was on par with being struck by several practice swords at once, and it kept coming. It was relentless. By the time they returned to their quarters and Mercedes was notified, she felt even worse. No amount of caring gestures from Sylvain helped, and she felt awful for telling him so.

“Sylv, I know you’re trying to help, but I just need to breathe.” She gasped. “Wh-where is Mercedes?”

“She’s getting some tea or something, I don’t know! Ingrid, love, is there nothing I can do?” He asked pleadingly.

The pain in his honeyed eyes was apparent as he gazed down at her, his hand taking hers in his gently, running his thumb across her knuckles.

“I want you to promise me something,” she began softly, the intense knit in her brow subsiding for a moment.

“Anything, I will do anything you ask.” He whimpered.

“If it comes down to either me or the baby, I need you to choose the baby, Sylvain.” Choking out those words before another wave of pain crashed over her, she hid her face in her pillow to hide the look of anguish from him.

When the pain left, Ingrid pulled her face from the pillow to find Sylvain staring off out the window at the setting sun. The only words she could use to describe his expression were pure torment and despondency, the far away look in his eyes only falling on her long enough to quiver as his lips parted to speak.

“I can’t do that. You’re in pain, you’re not thinking straight. We don’t even know if it’ll come down to that.”

“Sylvain, don’t argue with me, please. This is only in the worst case scenario.” She muttered tiredly.

Before Sylvain could retort, Mercedes stepped into the room carrying a tray with a pot of tea, several cold cloths, a small container of herbs, and a small jar of honey.

As she moved toward the bed, she set down the silver tray, and rested a hand against Sylvain’s shoulder.

“It’s probably best if you wait outside the room.” She said softly, her eyes shifting between both Ingrid and the back of his head. “Don’t worry, I will keep you informed on her condition.”

Standing slowly, he angrily stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Mercedes, are you certain he can’t stay? H-he… Gah! Goddess above, make it stop!” She screamed as another contraction brought yet another surge of agony. If she could, she would have climbed a wall from the severity of it.

“Okay, okay, breathe...take in a few deep breaths, remember? I’ll prepare the tea, would you like a cool cloth?”

“Mercedes for Sothis’ sake! The breathing does nothing!” She bawled. “What good will a cloth do?”

“Ingrid, if you don’t calm yourself it won’t be on your forehead, it will be in your mouth!” Mercedes snapped. “You need to stay relaxed! I know it’s difficult, but please, try your hardest.” Going from a harsher tone to a softer one, she pressed a cloth against Ingrid’s forehead. “I know it hurts. Annette has done it twice, and I’ve gone through it once myself. You’re strong, Ingrid. You can do this. No matter the odds.”

The short speech she received allowed a moment of repose for her. She was right, if Annie could endure it twice and Mercedes could once, so could she. Even if Mercedes didn’t like Ingrid’s odds of survival, she was determined to do so.

“Thank you. I think I’ll try your tea now.” She replied softly, taking in several deep breaths before she was racked over by another contraction.  
-


	5. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain says goodbye and learns how to cope with the loss.
> 
> Epilogue.

-

Several hours passed before Mercedes emerged from the room to confront Sylvain. He sat silently on the floor, his head leaning against the wall with his eyes fixed on the door that his wife was behind. The screaming had subsided finally, but there was nothing but silence.

Slowly shifting his gaze upward to see Mercedes, she held a wet cloth in her hands, cleaning the crimson from them. He didn’t dare ask. There wasn’t a single sound coming from the room, and whatever she was going to say, he didn’t want to hear it. If she didn’t tell him, it wouldn’t be real.

“Sylvain…” She began softly, crouching in front of him. “Ingrid is...very weak right now. She lost a lot of blood, and as it stands, she has yet to stop bleeding. I’ve tried to find the bleed, I used as much magic as I could…”

“You’re saying she’s going to die, because of It.” He said bitterly.

“No. Not because of the baby, Sylvain.” She furrowed her brow. “For the baby. The babies.”

His eyes widened at her statement. Two? She had two?

“Did she know? Did you know?” He questioned harshly, his hands gripping together in an attempt to keep himself from punching the wall.

“No. Neither of us knew. It’s a boy and a girl if you’re wondering.” She added lightly, trying to calm him. “If you want to say goodbye, now is the time.” Her voice was gentle, and her hand was kind as it rested on his shoulder.

“Mercedes...how do I say goodbye to the woman I love? The most beautiful woman I’ve ever known?” His voice began to catch with each word.

“You will find a way.” She reassured him, a few tears of her own pooling in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

As she stood, she extended a hand to him, helping him to his feet, and opening the door to the dimly lit room. When he released her hand, he slowly made his way across the room to the bed, his eyes falling over his paled wife.

He had heard of death warming over people, but he never realised it would be like this. Any colour she once held, was gone, leaving her pale enough to match the sheets.

“Hey.” Ingrid said softly, her voice weak and raspy.

With a heavy swallow, he pulled a chair over beside her, and took her shaking hand.

“Hey. You...you’re going to be okay.” He whispered softly, trying to reassure her. “This is nothing, you’ll pull through,” 

“Sylvain, darling,” she murmured. “Mercedes already told me. I’m...okay. You will be okay.” She slowly raised her other trembling hand to run through his hair, a weak smile curving at her lips. “You’ll be the most...wonderful father.”

“Ingrid, I can’t. You can’t…” As his breathing hitched, he pressed her clammy hand to his lips. “I love you.”

Watching her curve her lips upward into one last frail smile, he gazed into her jadeite eyes, one last time before the life drained from them.

“I love you, too.”  
-

“Papa! Look at this! Isn’t it pretty?”

The little blonde girl cried out from across the field of wildflowers, her tiny legs carrying her back to him as fast as they could.

“Oh, wow! That is a pretty one, Vera. Did you want to take it when we visit mommy later?” Sylvain smiled broadly at his five year old girl, picking her up into his arms.

“Oh, yes! I know she’ll love this one!” She giggled sweetly.

“Papa! I found a rock that looks like a horse!” The young boy called, stomping through the meadow, not quite as graceful as his sister.

“Your mother loved horses, Callan, did you want to take it to her?” He replied, taking his son’s smaller hand in his.

“Mhm. I think she’ll like it. It even has a long nose, see?” 

He held up the rock, to which Sylvain nodded with a low whistle.

“Wow, she is going to love that horse rock, big guy. Let’s go, we don’t want to be late for dinner with your aunts and uncles.”  
-

The five years since Ingrid passed were filled with joy and sorrow. Everyone wept. Their friends were never the same without her. He even saw their Professor shed a few tears at her service. But time marched on, and their children continued to grow up without a mother, but not without her memory.

Sylvain made it a point to tell them at the very least one fact or story about her everyday, while the other Blue Lions wrote down in journals their memories of her to give to them on their tenth birthday. While their tenth birthday was still a while off, they would all come to Galatea to celebrate their birthday.

He would never forget his wife and the mother of his two beautiful children. While she may have left the realm, she left behind the sweetest memories he could ask for. He could feel her tender touch in the gentle breeze that blew against his face, ruffling his hair. And her warm embrace every time their children wrapped their little arms around him.

He knew she was there. And whether he would see her again once he passed on himself, he would never forget the strong, stubborn, chivalrous knight that he fell in love with and married. Because love isn’t just for one lifetime. It’s forever.


End file.
